


there's a honey [DISCONTINUED]

by alanticipate



Category: Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Fluff, Everyone Is Gay, Fluff and Angst, M/M, New Year's Eve, Pride Parades, Slow Burn, charlie is nonbinary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alanticipate/pseuds/alanticipate
Summary: an anderperry year in three parts.lots of pining and angst, but with the happy ending the dps fandom collectively deserves.
Relationships: Charlie Dalton/Knox Overstreet, Ginny Danbury/Chris Noel, Steven Meeks/Gerard Pitts, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Comments: 9
Kudos: 59





	1. new year's eve

**Author's Note:**

> i do not own the dead poets society franchise.
> 
> title from 'there's a honey' by pale waves [listen for anderperry vibes ig?]
> 
> much thanks to my fave kay (twt: @timeinatreee) for giving me plenty of ideas and hype to get this written. i loge you >:)
> 
> also many thanks to dps stan twitter for welcoming and accepting me, and thereby making this work possible.

**i. dec 31**

  
as he walks with todd along the ashen sidewalk, letting snowflakes cling gently to his coat, neil perry thinks what a beautiful thing it is to be alive. he’s sure todd is thinking something even more pensive and poetic, but he doesn’t ask what. they’re almost at charlie’s anyway, and his toes are cold and his mind is clear, and he wants to enjoy just the act of walking, in the silence, with his best friend in the whole world.

  
it’s new year’s eve in new york city, and neil is letting himself breathe for the first time in ages.

  
if todd shuffles closer to him as they approach the front steps, neil likes to imagine that it’s intentional and not just for the practicality of warmth, or even a reflex action born out of many years of neil being todd’s comfort against the brutalizing force of the world. he feels free to imagine because, as bittersweet as it might sound, they have very little chance of being together. they’ve been sharing an apartment for a year now since graduating welton, and not once has todd shown any hint of reciprocity towards neil’s increasingly bold, desperate subtleties.

  
but then again, maybe he’s gotten so used to living in the same space as todd (a true privilege) that most things have begun to escape his notice. neil thinks, _i need to change that soon._

  
it is todd who reaches for the front doorbell first, todd who greets the landlady on the ground floor with his face flushed pink and his hair a rich golden and his eyes twinkling like one of the millions of stars that neil wants to give him. the landlady, clearly charmed by the two of them, moves aside and insists that they wipe the snow off their shoes. neil settles for awkwardly cradling the riesling he’s brought along instead of the sudden admission of his crush on todd that he’d been dangerously close to. 

  
as they enter the elevator, neil says instead, “the tie looks really good on you, you should wear it more often.” todd’s blush comes as the doors slide shut; he tugs on the tie self-consciously, as he is prone to do whenever neil delivers a compliment. “it was actually a birthday present from jeff. pretty sure he got it first from our parents but just didn’t like the color.” this small detail, yet another reminder of how todd has always been made to feel small by his family, gives neil’s mouth a sour taste. but all he says is, “oh.” in that split second he wishes to be seventeen again, and the only one in the world to make todd laugh as they joke about the aerodynamics of desk sets before throwing the aforementioned desk set off a building.

  
the silence, which moments ago had felt comforting to neil, balloons out of proportion into a weighty pocket of air. thankfully the elevator comes to a creaking halt before it can get any worse, and the doors slide open again in time for charlie to launch themself into neil’s arms.   
neil is overcome with joy in that split second, taken back to a time when it was just him and his friends and a cave hidden in the woods. todd receives a similarly enthusiastic greeting from charlie, and then they’re both being practically dragged into the apartment to meet a grinning knox who accepts the bottle of riesling. meeks and pitts are already there on the couch, sharing a blanket and a tube of pringles over some cable tv new year’s program. 

  
charlie tells todd and neil in an excited hush to “look at the christmas tree, isn’t it pretty?” the tree, apparently decorated by none other than charlie themself, is visual chaos-- pride flags are draped everywhere, interspersed with massive green stockings, porcelain santa gnomes and styrofoam snowflakes. neil blinks in a fascinating mix of horror and amusement because this is so characteristic of charlie that really, the surprise element is no longer there. todd, on the other hand, appears to actually be excited about it. 

  
“it looks really fun, charlie! hey, i bet you and knox had a great time doing this.” 

  
as todd and charlie chatter excitedly about the tree and knox grumbles in the background about the stockings being full price even at this time of year, neil looks on in pure wonder. of course only todd would be genuinely fascinated with anything and everything his friends did, and only todd would be able to express this thrill in such a purely kindhearted way, and only todd would make the delicate rays of the evening sun look gaudy in comparison, and all of a sudden neil can’t breathe again.

  
he moves away then, because his thoughts are buzzing too loudly and he doesn’t need the complications of that right now, and instead allows himself to absorb the atmosphere of just being around these five people whom he’s known forever, who have loved, joked and fiercely protected one another through hell. 

  
eventually, they all gravitate to the couch area to sit and drink and talk. neil ends up squished in between charlie and meeks. knox settles in a big armchair, and todd and pitts both end up on the floor.

  
knox talks about how he had insisted they order in but charlie wanted to try cooking on their own, which is why dinner tonight would be just dauphinoise potatoes and brownies. pitts says if no one else will, he’ll try eating the potatoes and brownies together for science. meeks tells them over mouthfuls of pringles about his new job as part of a team leading the innovation in silicon valley, all from the comfort of his home-- to give him more time to spend with pitts. as their hands casually drift down towards each other and tangle, neil can sense todd looking at them too. this happiness is the most beautiful thing in the world and he wants nothing more for all of his friends.

  
he just hopes that someday he’ll be able to reach out for todd’s hand with the same ease.

  
chris and ginny arrive as the sky turns dark, bringing roast chicken and more wine. it’s surprisingly seamless, the way in which they all settle into the same rhythm of school days as if only a few hours had passed and not a whole year. throughout the evening, as everyone gets progressively tipsier (apart from meeks, the designated driver), neil begins to be more and more aware of the way todd’s eyes linger on him at times. the heat on the back of his neck is spreading to his face, which may be the alcohol or the crush or the combined effect of both. 

  
neil settles back down onto the couch, and before he knows it todd has appeared there too. funny, he reflects as he passes todd a drink, how they’re somehow always being thrown together. and yet it is natural. his eyes trace the outline of todd’s face, take in his rosy cheeks and shy smile, as todd says: “we should do this more than once every year.”

  
“yeah?” 

  
“i mean, it’s been an exceptionally un-shitty year for us. we’ve accomplished so much, neil, think about it. we deserve more than just one night to celebrate that.”

  
neil can’t ignore the way his heart rate speeds up exponentially at the way his name rolls off todd’s tongue, so he quickly fumbles for a reply. “i know, it’s crazy, isn’t it? we’re finally independent, we’re carpe-ing the diem. i think my whole life has led up to this moment.” _sitting on this secondhand couch, with you and only you, grinning like fools together because we’re finally getting to live._

  
todd laughs, and neil thinks, _there it is._

  
“we really are. our friends are all doing what they love, you’re acting, i’m… doing whatever it is that this can be called--”

  
“about to publish what will become one of the greatest books of poetry to ever grace the lofty halls of american literature.” neil’s tone is firm, letting todd know (hopefully) that he will not simply sit and let todd indulge in self-deprecation.

  
todd gives an embarrassed chuckle, but neil can tell that he’s managed to make him happy, and god, if that isn’t the best experience in the world then what is?

  
the background noise settles into a murmur long enough for todd to say, “i feel…”

  
neil waits for the end of the sentence but it doesn’t come, so he eventually prods. “what do you feel?”

  
todd leans back, smiles, and looks neil in the eyes. he says, “i feel everything,” and neil understands.

  
a song begins to play, and todd lets his head recline (a movement that on any other person would look puerile but on todd is as graceful as a swan bending their neck) until he is resting on neil’s shoulder. neil expects his heart to start beating out of his chest again and betray him, betray this fragile state of sheer euphoria, but instead a sense of comfort settles over him. he lets his cheek rest, cautiously (tenderly?) on todd’s messy hair and loops an arm around him. 

  
they did this occasionally in their dorm room in the dead of night too, but now that they are free from the confines of welton, neil is at once awed and grateful that todd somehow still seeks comfort in his arms.

  
a power outage momentarily distracts knox and charlie from making out in the corner, chris shows pitts and meeks the flower crowns she made for them, ginny pops the confetti an hour too early, and it’s all so perfect and good that neil almost expects something to go wrong. but nothing does.

  
at five minutes to twelve, todd wakes up. at two minutes to twelve, meeks turns on a countdown. at ten seconds to twelve, knox miraculously finds another cannon full of golden confetti.

  
_3!_ everyone moves closer to each other. they are in a world of their own. 

  
_2!_ neil, mind hazed from the dreaming and the drinking, wobbles on his feet in front of the tv, but todd is there to keep him steady.

  
_1!_ their hands find each other in the subtle lighting of the living room. they cling on to each other. their fingers trace patterns that no words ever could.

  
_HAPPY NEW YEAR!_

  
the collective shouts and outbursts of jubilance begin to resound from outside the apartment. charlie takes it as their cue to pull a giggling knox into a sloppy kiss. for a second neil thinks todd is going to do the same, and the breath fills his lungs before it escapes sharply a moment later at the realization that todd is not. still, the way that todd grips on to neil’s hand, delicate fingers leaving their imprint, is all they both need to be content.

  
it hits neil that he hasn’t felt lost in almost ten months. in the beginning, when his father was still trying to call him and demand that he leave the apartment and todd to come home right now, when acting work was hard to come by because of his lack of connections, when he was barely able to pay his half of the rent, when mr keating had just gone back to england and was impossible to contact, the feeling of disorientation and fear was overwhelming.

  
looking back, what was anchoring him to new york? every inch of his brain buzzes todd’s name-- more accurately, todd’s ingenuity that found a way to cover the rent every month until neil got his first script, todd’s generous soul that took care of neil and shielded him against mr. perry, todd’s unwavering belief that neil could make it. all this time, it was always todd. 

  
the thought of this is like a picture that clicks into its frame-- and yet it has always been there, one of the deeper parts of him that he didn’t know existed until suddenly he did. 

  
neil closes his eyes and holds on tighter to todd’s hand, knowing now what he always knew: that he never wants to let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried my best :')
> 
> constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated! (except for "don't project onto the characters" because what else are they there for) leave kudos if you want hehe
> 
> chapter uploads will be relatively spontaneous.


	2. pride parade

**ii. june 28**

todd anderson fidgets.

it happens less and less often nowadays, come to think of it, now that he’s been living with neil for over a year. back when he was still in vermont with his parents and jeff, going to school, he couldn’t stop twisting his hands-- even when his mother snapped at him to stop, even when his father took him aside to ask if he wanted to talk to a doctor about his nerves. but the fact is that merely a week after he and neil met, the fidgeting had subsided considerably, and now he can’t remember the last time he did it.

neil had noticed it right from the start, todd knows. he is observant in a way that todd would find alarming in others, but in _him_ is merely endearing. 

they had been sitting at the dining table with a plate of tandoori chicken between them one lazy may evening, the overhead lamp casting a soft amber glow. todd was mindlessly scrolling through his twitter feed as neil sat hunched over, poring over a script. suddenly neil looked up, a smile spreading slowly across his face. todd remembers trying very hard to disguise the fact that his heart had nearly stopped then.

“i just remembered. pride’s happening in a month.”

todd, who was not yet sure where this was leading, responded, “your glasses are sliding down.” without a second thought he reached over the almost-empty plate to prod the black-rimmed glasses back up neil’s face for him. 

he thinks neil had blushed, but under such light it was difficult to say.

“do you want to come with me?” neil’s voice was halting and soft.

todd blinked. in that moment he realized that he needed to reevaluate many things about himself. 

he wasn’t stupid, of course he knew what pride was-- the largest event of the lgbtq+ community in the entire world, and it would very likely be taking place beneath their apartment. it was a wonderful opportunity and had, frankly, sounded wonderful when he first heard of it after coming to the conclusion that he was gay. after further reflection, however, he surmised that it would likely include massive crowds and loud noises, both of which todd generally tried to avoid if he could. 

he had thus shifted the thought of ever attending pride to the back of his mind, but now, sitting across neil perry under the poor lighting of their kitchen lamp, todd thought he would probably take some time later to revisit that.

then todd took a good look at neil, who appeared to be getting increasingly nervous about the long silence, and changed his mind yet again.

“sure, neil, of course i’ll go with you! it’ll be fun, and the other dead poets are probably going to want to tag along as well, knowing them.”

“really?” neil visibly perked up then, and todd caught himself wishing he could say yes all over again just to see it. “i know how much you dislike crowds, and i promise you, if at any point you need space or you want to go home just say the word and we can go, okay? but we’re gonna have a great time, we can meet new people and try lots of food and buy pride merch.”

todd swallowed the momentary panic he felt at the implications of the phrase _meet new people_ \-- especially coming from neil’s mouth-- and instead laughed a little. “i can’t promise it’ll be easy, but for you i’ll try, okay?”

“okay,” neil exhaled. “you have no idea how much i love you for this,” he said then, reaching out to grip his hand, and todd nearly had a stroke in the sheer magnitude of his hope that this would be new year’s eve all over again, but then they would actually _kiss_ , and then neil leapt out of his seat. 

the script slid to the floor, and todd bent down to pick it up in the hope that it would hide his utter disappointment as neil exclaimed, “this is fantastic! wait, i need to text the others. we have to plan outfits, and-- and a meeting point, and where to eat, and it’s going to be the best experience of our fucking lives!”

now, as todd dabs a wet cloth onto the temporary pride flag tattoo on his wrist, he thinks that it may not, after all, be the best experience of his life. he can already hear the cacophony of excited conversation from below their balcony, intermingled with the too-loud music and the occasional megaphone announcement. 

his hands are already itching to fidget. but he promised neil that he would go with him, and what is todd if not reliable?

he goes out into the living room where neil is chattering excitedly on the phone to charlie, grabs his bag, and then they’re heading downstairs and out into the morning sunshine.

they meet up with the rest of the dead poets near madison square park, and from there, they’re off. the route is fairly straightforward, and meeks has the map saved on his phone, so as they walk leisurely among the sea of people, todd can feel himself beginning to relax and enjoy himself. 

the thing he notices the most is that people are smiling broadly, imbued with the atmosphere of liberation and feeding off the energy of the crowd. there are people of all ages there, most adorned with the rainbow flag, another flag for their specific sexuality, or ‘free hug’ signs-- but most of all, nobody is alone. families, couples, throngs of friends-- everyone is here today with someone.

 _and that’s what this is really about_ , todd thinks to himself, letting the corners of his mouth turn up slightly.

he and neil are wearing sunglasses, but a few people recognize him at lunch; it’s always “hey, aren’t you the writer? the poet, that’s right, i know you!” followed by whatever they feel they want to say to him. todd released his first book of poetry in january, and although he is still not completely happy with the result (“your own cruellest critic”, as neil says with a fond grin), it’s been received splendidly among the creative community here.

all todd does, he says to every one of those people, is tell stories. and today, he knows he’ll find some.

they’re walking through greenwich avenue eating tacos when someone with the pan flag painted on one cheek and the nonbinary flag on the other holds out a box full of little papers to todd.

“why don’t you take one of the notes and see what it says,” they insist with a mysterious smile on their face. 

a curious todd says thank you and reaches for one, unfolding it. neil is nearby asking about the price of a shirt that reads ‘i can’t even think straight’, and it’s a good thing that he won’t be able to see the blush that spreads furiously across todd’s face as he reads, in a petite scrawl of baby blue glitter ink: **GIVE THIS NOTE TO SOMEONE YOU THINK IS CUTE!** todd glances over at neil, and then back at the person with the box, who nods in amused understanding. 

todd takes a deep breath, walks over to neil, and hands him the note with a nervous smile. 

“hey, todd. um, what’s this?” neil is evidently confused, but now he’s distracted from the shirt.

“read it,” laughs todd.

neil’s eyes scan the note, and as he does so his cheeks become tinged with a light pink. “well, um, i-- thank you. todd. i’m-- thank you very much. i, uh, i think you’re cute too. in case you didn’t already know.”

todd’s eyes widen a tiny fraction. but before he can ask what this means, meeks and pitts return, rambling about how they met this adorable puppy and its equally impressive owner who may or may not be related to _the_ marsha p. johnson, and all of a sudden the moment is lost. 

knox buys everyone ice cream after they’ve been to see stonewall. the six of them lick at their cones together on charlie’s balcony and watch the bright colors flood through the streets of new york. the crackle and hiss of the afternoon, fuelled by the sweat and triumphant shouts of people, has given way to a more languid, sultry dusk. todd and neil sit side by side, and todd can tell neil wants desperately to say something but doesn’t know what, and todd doesn’t have the words-- at least not without paper and pen-- either.

at last, after a long day of celebration, they all say goodbye and head their separate ways. neil turns to todd and says, “it’s so nice outside tonight that i feel like we should walk back. what do you say?” and of course when neil is looking at him like that, todd never really had any choice at all.

they set out, a quiet hum settling over the air. in the restaurants, in the shops, the thrill of earlier still has yet to completely evaporate. todd accepts this now, even revels in it. today was spent with his best friends, indulging in the fact of just being himself, and he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

“what are you thinking?” neil is the first to break the silence.

todd huffs a laugh. “i really enjoyed it, to be honest. thanks for, uh, putting up with me and bringing me places.”

“always,” neil replies earnestly, and in that moment todd doesn’t know if he can keep pretending to not be in love for much longer.

they’re almost home, and the lights are shining overhead and all around are the sounds of happiness, and todd is taken back to a time when he said, not even really believing it, “i can take care of myself just fine.” 

and neil, brilliant, beautiful neil, had simply looked at him, smiled, and said, “no.”

yes, technically todd has always been fine by himself.

but neil-- neil is the reason he doesn’t have to be.

the conscious acceptance of this fact, after years and years of constant second-guessing and denial and confusion, gives todd a momentous rush of adrenaline, so much that he thinks he might explode as they walk into the elevator.

but he doesn’t, and they enter their apartment quietly, careful not to wake the little old lady next door who goes to bed at eight thirty.

they take turns to take a shower, and then neil plops on the faded leather couch with a contented sigh, clearly still euphoric from the events of today. todd sits next to him, his heart pounding in his ears.

“neil?” spoken softly, tentatively.

“yes, todd?” and there it is again. that tremble of utter adoration that makes stars fall from the sky.

“can i... kiss you?”

a pause to swallow up the earth. 

and then, finally, two wonderful words.

“yes, please.”

and then everything is moving and alive again, and as todd clutches neil’s collar and sinks further into the couch, he cannot breathe, cannot think for the sheer joy flooding his veins.

when he writes poetry he generally tries not to use cliches or hyperbolic statements. mr keating’s advice has proven true and sound through the years, and todd anderson is best known among the literary circle for his utterly unique way of putting feelings in ways that no one has conceived of before in their most volatile dreams. but right now? todd’s brain is struck with blinding clarity, and only one piece of knowledge rings loud and true:

neil perry is like coming home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for those who may not know, marsha p. johnson was an iconic american gay rights activist and drag queen who played an instrumental role in the stonewall uprising!
> 
> i tried to create a more lighthearted, tender tone for this chapter than in the previous one. still not sure if it worked tho so please comment if you think it did~
> 
> (i projected so hard here pls forgive me)


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